


The Tale of Gravemakker

by traycon3



Category: Repo! The Genetic Opera (2008)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-24
Updated: 2018-11-24
Packaged: 2019-08-28 10:55:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16721997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/traycon3/pseuds/traycon3
Summary: A short story about another graverobber who knows Graverobber. Just a little fun piece I wrote years ago. I may end up throwing up a few more stories of her.





	The Tale of Gravemakker

_The man ran, eyes wild. His breath came out in pants, as his head darted left and right like an animal being hunted by an unknown creature. His stride was long, but a good hunter knows not to wear herself out. To wait until the animal can run no more. To wait for the trap to be sprung._

_His long legs carried him over a sleeping body as his pursuer crept silently after him. Suddenly he was swept up by his leg, banging his head on the ground as he was lifted into the air. He hung listlessly as a black creature swept up upon him, slicing him open._

_"Hush now, sleep. The Widowmakker will make this fast…" Some of his organs fell out as the blade ran from his groin to his sternum. Working quickly, the liver was selected and placed into the cooler for storage, the slick organ nearly sliding out of the gloved hand. Then a syringe was produced, the Zydrate quickly removed and tucked away before anyone saw the glow. The body was left, swinging back and forth in the alley, a reminder to all to make their payments._

I suppose I should have felt bad about leaving him hanging there, but after a while, it just becomes natural. A part of the job. I jumped as my watch went off, the head of Amber Sweet appearing before me. "Widowmakker, I trust you have completed your job?" she asked, her voice cool and collected. She had grown up a bit after the death of her father, and though she was still a surgery addict, she hid it well. 

"Yes, ma'am," I replied, inclining my head. 

"Very well. Return to GeneCo at once." 

I shut off the transmission and sighed. I have been working for GeneCo since I was 12, working to pay off my debt for medical school. Some of you are probably wondering why I graduated at 12-is this place so bad that they train children to be surgeons because who cares if they botch it up, the organs will be back soon enough anyway? But, in all honesty, I'm a genius. I'm not trying to overstate my abilities; it's the truth. Rotti Largo discovered my talents when I was seven. He offered a loan to pay for my schooling, to get me a better life outside of the slums. My mother agreed, signing away my freedom to the businessman, hoping that if I was under his guidance, I would have a greater opportunity to excel. 

I was trained by the top surgeons to become one of the youngest doctors they had seen in a while. But medical school was expensive. My mother was forced to pay off the debt. It slowly started taking its toll on her. She became sick, dependent on Zydrate to even begin to make it through her day. But Zydrate-even street Zydrate-can be expensive too. 

I begged Rotti to give me the debt instead of my mother. To let me pay for my own schooling. He acquiesced, making me a Repoman when I didn't have any surgeries. It worked for a while. But, as with any child, I started itching for freedom. For a world beyond GeneCo. I wanted to pay off my debt as soon as possible. 

I was fourteen when I first started graverobbing from my victims. It started as a way to help my mother. To give her a way to buy food instead of feeding her addiction. I knew it was wrong-knew the dangers of being addicted to Zydrate. But she was my mother. I couldn't watch her suffer because of me. So I became her supplier. Soon that circle widened to include some of her friends. I offered them discounts, leaving my stash at my mother's house.

It was about five years ago, on my fifteenth birthday, that I discovered my mother lying dead on the floor, surrounded by empty glass vials of Zydrate. That image still haunts my memory, the reason I nearly work myself to death during the week of my birth then usually shoot up some Zydrate in an alley to escape. It's the only time I ever dip into my stash. 

And it was nearing that week again. 

I dropped off my package at the front desk of GeneCo. I didn't want to deal with the remaining Largos. Especially Pavi. 

Then it was off to my apartment, paid for by my extra…earnings. I shed my Repoman outfit and let it fall on the tile, walking away from it. The tile felt cool against my feet as I moved across my room, heading for a shower as I slowly stripped down to nothing. I turned on the shower and stepped inside, the cold water pouring over my body. It ran through my dreads as I scratched my scalp, debating what color I should change to for the next few months. Maybe go from green to blue, since the green was almost completely faded. I looked down. It would definitely match the current color of my skin. I shivered under the shower, a very strong reminder of the fact that I was alive. 

Finally I stepped out and looked at my naked form. My dreads had started when I was in school because I never brushed my hair. It just never seemed to be worth the time. Now, it just became more practical than shaving my head and starting from scratch. Still, I liked to play with colors sometimes. And I needed to dye my roots again. The brown was staring to show up under the almost white. A small scar ran down my stomach, from where I had had to have both a kidney and a liver replaced last year after a repossession got the best of me, adding to my never-ending debt.

Sighing, I dried my hair with a towel, walking into my bedroom. I dressed, putting on a black leather corset and a tight blue-jean skirt. Then I grabbed my tattered red jacket, grabbing my latest Zydrate stash before kneeling to lace up my platform boots. 

Last, but not least, I put on my black lipstick before leaving the apartment, going out on my second trip of the night. 

And thus my week moved on in a similar manner as I tried to ignore the gnawing feeling in my stomach as my birthday week approached. 

When it finally came, I drove myself into my work. I ate and slept only when necessary, but most of the time I spent working and robbing and working more as the day ticked ever closer. 

It wasn't terribly uncommon that GeneCo employees would take off for their birthday, so it never struck anyone as odd that I did, too. What did strike a few people was that I never wanted to be a part of any sort of party people tried to throw me. I think, though, that everyone got the point when I slugged Nathan Wallace in the face one year. I was drunk. Someone told me to lighten up. Unfortunately, Nathan was nearby and got the extent of my wrath. I count myself lucky that he had a kid about two years younger than me and knew how to be forceful but gentle in getting me to calm down. 

I still miss Nathan. He tended to treat me like a second daughter whenever we worked together. I was sorry to hear about his death. Though probably not as sorry as poor Shilo. But at least she was free. 

I sighed, going to a liquor store. With organs in such large supply, they had lowered the drinking age back to eighteen. I grabbed some vodka and walked outside, taking a slug of it. It burned down my throat, reminding me that I was alive. I walked until I reached a gravesite. Not really caring if it was in anyone's territory, I bent down and got some Z. Shoving it into my gun, I pressed it against my neck, and then the world seemed to melt away. 

I really don't remember much of what happened next. Though I doubted strenuously that the part where I made out with a large blue and green rabbit actually happened. If it did, we have more serious issues going on here than I originally thought. 

What I do know is that I woke up with a pounding headache and a feeling of numbness in my limbs that usually results from Zydrate use. I slowly opened my eyes and found myself face-to-face with a glass of water and a few white pills. I slowly became aware that there was a hand holding them and a pressure on my legs I hadn't noticed before. I held out my hand shakily for the pills, looking up at the barer of the gift. A small smile crossed my lips as my eyes flicked over the fairly heavy frame and the dreads that had more colors than a rainbow. Or at least more than mine usually did. 

"Don't sit up too fast," Graverobber warned me as he handed me the glass. I winced at how loud his voice was, and he just flashed a good-natured grin. I nodded with a bit of an eye-roll and tipped the pills into my mouth, slowly drinking the water. I closed my eyes, pressing the glass to my head, a part of me debating with buying some Zydrate from him so that I didn't have to deal with the hangover. But I knew never to take it more than every once in a while. I knew what Zydrate did to people. 

I eyed him again. "So…to what do I owe this pleasure?" 

"You mean besides that you were strung out on so much Z and vodka you were leaning over a gravestone and practically making out with it?" he asked with a smirk, sitting back on his haunches. And my legs, but the space we were in was rather cramped. I recognized it as his dumpster. 

"Mmm…thanks for that…" I muttered, putting a hand to my face. 

He just grinned again. "Something you want to discuss? You know as well as I do that it's not a good idea to dip into your stash, Ms. Makker. Or to mix it with vodka." 

"It's my birthday," I snapped back. "I was…celebrating." 

"In a graveyard. By yourself." He nodded slowly, obviously not buying my explanation. Still, he shrugged and leaned in. "Listen, Gravemakker," I winced at his personal pet-name for me, "you know you should be more careful. There are less-scrupulous men out there who wouldn't care that you were too strung out on Z and alcohol to have their way with you." 

"What? You worried about me?" I pushed myself to a sitting position, the world beginning to spin. I felt the contents of my stomach threatening to come up my throat, but I swallowed them down. He always had a soft-spot for damsels in distress, if his track record just between me and Shilo Wallace showed anything. But he would never admit it to my face, of course, because he was a man. 

He smirked. "What can I say? Us 'robbers gotta stick together." His stomach growled, and I realized that he probably had spent the entire night near me and probably hadn't eaten anything. I sighed, feeling kind of guilty about that. 

"Come on," I said. "I'm hungry." I tried to pull my legs out from under him, but he was heavy. He grinned at me, not budging. "You know, if you want food, you're going to have to move." 

He crossed his arms. "You're offering me food?" he asked, raising an eyebrow skeptically. 

"Yes. I'll pay. Think of it as a thank you for saving me from myself last night." Still grinning, he let me up and hefted himself out of the dumpster. 

I followed a little slower, my head still throbbing from last night. I leaned against the trashcan, scratching my head, trying not to hurl. "Mmmm…make the world stop spinning…" 

He clapped a hand on my shoulder. "Come on. Let's get some food in ya. And some coffee." 

I sort of leaned against him. "Yessssss…coffee is good…" 

He let out a rich laugh and took me to a nearby diner. We sat and talked about useless things…the state of the economy, how badly Amber was going to screw us over if she ever found out we even knew each other…The usual stuff. Finally the throbbing in my head started to go away, thanks to about five glasses of water and two cups of coffee. I tapped my finger against the table, feeling kind if jittery. 

Graverobber leaned over and put his hand over mine. "Stop…" he said, looking at me. I sort of flushed. His hand was kind of warm. 

"Why should I?" I teased, sticking out my tongue. 

"Because it's distracting," he retorted, letting his hand slide from mine. 

I could feel my face heating up a little. Yes, he was attractive. Yes, I would probably do him in a heartbeat if he ever offered. But we were both Amber's puppets and knew it. We both knew how stupid it was to cross her. So we continued to play our little game of flirting and teasing one another, but never actually following our desires. 

We both parted ways outside the restaurant, his hands filled with to-go boxes of food I had more-or-less shoved upon him. I had a cup of coffee to go, myself, but not much else. He headed off back to his "home" with a charismatic bow and a laugh as he disappeared down an alley. 

I sighed, sipping my coffee as I walked, musing about the first night I met him…

_It was freezing outside. The cold rain fell on my head, my chest, seeping into my bones, it felt like. My hair was stuck to my neck, and my whole body had raised Goosebumps. Blood covered most of my upper arm and my scrubs, but I ignored it. It had been a complex operation-heart, two lungs, and a kidney had to be removed and replaced with new ones. I shuddered. It was a horrible surgery. Someone had nicked an artery. I held it closed as one of the other surgeons tried to fix it, blood spraying on both of us. I managed to clamp it down as he sewed it up, but by then the girl had already lost so much blood…There was no way to save her. She looked so small…so pale. She was about ten, with light blond hair and sparkling blue eyes. I had promised her she would come out of the surgery all right. I had promised, damn it!_

_I hit a nearby building with my fist, closing my eyes. A few tears ran down my face as I stared out at the street through blurry eyes. I was lucky…I hadn't been the one who had to tell the parents they weren't going to ever see their little girl._

_I let out a shuddering breath, staring down at the crimson on my body. I felt sick. I had never been squeamish about blood; I had lost patients before. But…God. I pushed the thought out of my mind, my eyes scanning for something…Someone._

_A blue flash caught my eye. I straightened and walked towards the man holding it. "How much?" I asked before he even opened his mouth._

_He grinned at me. "For you…" He cocked his head and told me a price, his voice kind of deep with a hint of whimsicalness to it._

_I eyed him and shoved my hand in my pocket. "Price gouging, are we?" I asked, shoving the money in his direction._

_He shrugged. "Hey, with all the people trying to kill me, I need to make it worth my time. Besides, this is street Z, not the fancy clinical stuff."_

_"I know," I snapped in reply, holding my hand out for the gun. "Gimmie."_

_He shook his head. "Nono, Miss. I always administer it myself."_

_"Are you a doctor? Didn't think so. Don't worry, I won't break your toy."_

_He shrugged handing it over. I took it from him, my fingers brushing his. He watched as I put it to my arm. "Wait!" he said suddenly. "Listen, you don't really seem like a user. Why start now?"_

_I looked up at him, narrowing my eyes. "Why do you care?" I snapped, more than a little annoyed at having been interrupted._

_"Because I've seen plenty of smart kids turn to drugs to deal with the pain and become hooked."_

_I let out a low growl. "Listen you graverobber. Don't you think I know the affects of Zydrate? I spent over a year studying just that. Finding out the exact dosage to make sure that my patients don't get addicted. And during that time I watched my mother ruin her life with it. Become an addict herself. So don't you think I know what I'm doing?" I moved the gun up to my neck to inject it._

_He held up his hands. "All right," he said. "You obviously know what you're doing. But it's not going to take away your pain."_

_I let out a sigh and let my hand drop. "I know…" I said quietly. "I just was hoping to get those eyes out of my mind…"_

_I stiffened as I felt an arm around my shoulder. "Is that were all the blood is from?" he asked quietly._

_I nodded my head, tears coming to my eyes. "She was so young…" I murmured quietly. "But…Someone nicked an artery and…There was so much blood…"_

_He ended up pulling me close to him. He smelled like earth. And trash. But I ignored that particular scent. He stood there and let me cry into his chest for what seemed like forever._

_Finally I stepped back, sniffing. He lifted his thumb and wiped away one of my tears, smiling. "You can't always let your patients get to you, kid," he said, patting my head. "Otherwise you'll end up like some of my clients."_

_"Thanks…" I mumbled, nodding to him._

_He just flashed a grin. "Well, I've gotta go actually make some money," he said, passing the money back to me. He winked. "Keep your nose clean, kid." With that he walked away, leaving me standing there, watching him go._

 

I sighed and wandered back to my apartment, to sleep on my comfortable bed and pretend my back didn't feel like I had slept in a dumpster all night.


End file.
